


Make-ups and Make-outs

by starlight_starbright



Series: Stucky College AU's [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Arguments, Blankets, Bucky Barnes Feels, Dirty Talk, Endearments, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Feels, Fights, Fire Escapes, Forgiveness, Frottage, Happy Ending, Hurt Steve, Hurt/Comfort, Kisses, Love, M/M, Make-outs, Non-Graphic Violence, Porn with Feelings, Protective Bucky, Smoking, Steve is a good boyfriend, True Love, Vague Threats of Rape, Violence, hand-jobs, make-ups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:30:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3522473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_starbright/pseuds/starlight_starbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky have a fight. Angst and make-up sex ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make-ups and Make-outs

**Author's Note:**

> These are all based on some college AU's floating around tumblr.

Bucky doesn’t know how they ended up so tangled together when they’d been so angry with each other just hours before. 

Steve’d gotten into _another_ fight with Brock Rumlow, the extremely homophobic guy that’d been bothering Bucky since the beginning of the semester. He’d call Bucky things like _faggot_ and _princess_ instead of his name. Bucky didn’t let it get to him. Homophobic people were going to be homophobic and there’s nothing Bucky can do about it, so he usually lets it drop.

Problem is, this time Rumlow’d gone one step further. He’d threatened Bucky. He’d said that maybe, if he raped him hard enough, he’d _“rape the gay right out of him_. _”_ Bucky’d walked away only slightly afraid (or so he likes to tell himself), and informed his RA who took it to the dean. Only problem is that the dean is also a homophobe, so Bucky’s kind of on his own. Not that he minds. His friends will back him up if it ever comes to blows.

But, of course, Steve with all ninety-five pounds of skin and bones had gone right up to Rumlow and his crew and punched him right in the face. _Right in the face_. Bucky’d come home from class to find Steve in their bathroom floor passed out and bleeding.

And after panicking for a good two minutes, Bucky’s able to wake him up and clean him off. He has a split lip, a dark bruise over his cheekbone, scraped knees, a broken finger, large bruises and broken skin over his left side, and a nasty purple-black bruise on his left thigh. They’d really done a number on him. Steve just hunched over, ready for the lecture, but neither of them expected what comes out of Bucky’s mouth.

“Number one: I don’t fuckin’ need you defending me,” he spits at Steve. And Lord, is Bucky pissed. “Number two: you’re a fuckin’ idiot. I can't fuckin’ believe you. This is the third time this semester, Steve. The third goddamn time. You need to get a fuckin’ grip. You’re not as strong as you think you are. I'm sorry, that’s how it is. Those are the cards you were dealt. Number three: I can't keep fuckin’ doing this, Steve. I can't keep coming home to find you broken and bleeding in the bathroom or on the floor or wherever you fuckin’ pass out. I can't take it, Steve. I can't fuckin’ do it. Not anymore. I won't. Not for me. Because I can take care of my fuckin’ self. I don’t need you to do it for me.” And Bucky can see how much that hurts Steve, the tears forming in his eyes, but Bucky’s so fucking terrified for Steve’s safety that he can't stop. He can't. He has to keep Steve safe, and if that means breaking off a five-year relationship, then so be it. Bucky can take the pain if it keeps Steve safe.

“Bucky—” Steve tries, but Bucky’s still too fucking pissed off that he can barely breathe. Or maybe that’s the fear. Bucky doesn’t fucking know, but he can't let what Rumlow threatened him with happen to Steve. He _can't_.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Steve. I don’t wanna hear your fuckin’ excuses and the bullshit about standing up to bullies. I don’t want to see you like this ever again. I don’t want you to defend me, I don’t want you to get into fights, and I sure as shit don’t want you broken and fuckin’ bleeding on the floor. Never again. Don’t do this to me again or we’re done. I can't fuckin’ take it.” Bucky’s finally done and Steve is openly crying now. And not the quiet kind of crying. The kind of crying that shakes your whole body. The kind of crying that rips out of you and is loud and messy and uncomfortable.

“Are you . . .?” Steve asks, choking around the rest of his question. Bucky throws his hands up in the air, frustrated.

“Are you going to keep picking fights with Rumlow?” he counters, glaring down at Steve.

“I don’t . . . Bucky I can't—”

“Is that your answer?” Bucky asks, regretting every word coming out of his mouth but somehow he’s unable to stop them. He’s too scared—absolutely terrified that next time Rumlow sees Steve he’s going to hurt him. Bucky can't let that happen. “I can't stand by and watch him hurt you, Steve. I refuse. I won't.” The blond looks down at his trembling hands and bites his lip. He’s breathing hard and Bucky instinctively grabs the inhaler off of the sink and hands it to him. “I need some time to think,” he says dismissively. Bucky’s not ready to face it—to face what he’s said—so he turns around and locks himself in his room.

Ten minutes later, he hears the apartment door open and close quietly. Steve left. Of course he did. Bucky’s already feeling horrible for the things he’d said—guilt and shame washing over him. He’d threatened to break up with Steve. Told him he was stupid, that he’d give up on him. Told him he wasn’t strong enough. He’d basically voiced everything that everyone else’d been saying about Steve for years. 

And none of it was true.

He didn’t mean any of it. 

How could he when Steve’s the best thing that’d ever happened to him?

Bucky’s the real idiot here. The real fucking awful person. Steve didn’t deserve that. He’d only been trying to stand up for Bucky and Bucky’d completely gone off on him—made him cry, even. The kind of crying Bucky hadn't seen out of Steve since his mother’d died three years prior.

Bucky wrestles his phone out of his pocket and dials Steve’s number. Two rings and it goes to voicemail.

 _“Unless it’s an emergency, don’t leave a message. I’ll get back to you eventually.”_ This counts as an emergency, right? 

“Steve, I'm so fuckin’ sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. Please come home. I'm so sorry. I’m a fuckin’ idiot and I've never deserved you and I went off on you for no reason. Please. Please don’t leave me.” Bucky’s voice breaks. “Please. Fuck, I love you so much. Please. Please, Stevie, please. Come home.” Bucky hangs up and tugs at his hair, pacing.

 _Please come home_ , Bucky texts, sending it before he can think.

 _I need you. I'm an idiot. Please,_ he sends ten minutes later. He’s not below pleading. Not at this point. It’s been an hour and Steve’d been on his way to working himself into an asthma attack when he’d left. It’s an understatement to say Bucky’s worried.

 _Steve, please. Please. God I can't blame you if you don’t want to see me, but please come home. I’ll leave. I’ll sleep at Nat’s. Just please. Don’t hate me. Don’t stay out. Come home._ It’s been an hour—no reply.

Bucky eventually collapses on the couch, trembling. The tears don’t come, but his body is shaking so hard that his can't hold his phone up. He chucks it onto the floor, burying his face in his arm—the metal one. The cool metal sooths the flush on Bucky’s face, calming him enough to make the trembling subside.

After an hour of submersion in his misery, Bucky jumps up and walks out onto the fire escape. Pulling out a cigarette from his emergency pack, he lights it with the spare matches and takes a long drag, tasting the bitter nicotine on his tongue. He finishes one, then two, and then three before going back inside.

He doesn’t know what to do. What can he do when Steve won't talk to him? His phone buzzes from its place on the floor and Bucky scrambles to pick it up only to find the text is from Natasha. 

Oh boy.

_What the ever-loving fuck did you do to Steve?_

_I didn’t mean it. Natasha, please. Send him home._ Bucky almost breaks, almost lets the tears flow, but he restrains himself.

 _That’s his decision, James, not mine. He’ll come home when he’s ready. For now, he’s safe and I have one of his inhalers here. But you’re going to get a substantial ass kicking for whatever you said to him. Poor boy’s a complete fucking mess._ Bucky’s heart breaks.

_Fuck. Nat. Please._

_I’ll tell him to check his phone, okay? No promises._

Bucky doesn’t reply, just stares at his phone, hoping against hope. One by one, his messages to Steve show up as read, but there’s still no reply. The bubble that signifies Steve is typing appears and disappears three times before Bucky tosses his phone back on the floor and curls in on himself on the couch. He doesn’t know what to do. He knows that going over to Natasha’s is a bad idea—neither Steve or Natasha would appreciate him showing up after this. So all Bucky can really do is wait. Wait and hope Steve comes home so that they can talk. Grabbing his phone, Bucky sends one more text.

 _If you want to leave me, I understand that. I said some horrible things. But at least let me see you one more time. Please? You're my end game. So if you're going to leave, I just want to see you one last time._  

And after that, Bucky switches his phone off and takes a cold shower, trying to think of what he should do next. He comes up with nothing, so after he gets out, he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and his pack of cigarettes, goings out onto the fire escape and sitting with his back to the brick wall—looking out over New York City. He’s so tired. All the fight has drained out of him leaving him empty, alone, and exhausted. Snow starts to fall, landing in Bucky’s hair and sticking to his bare feet, but he doesn’t go back inside. The cold is a welcome distraction—something he needs desperately.

He must’ve fallen asleep because when he opens his eyes, he’s on the couch with at least six blankets on top of him and Steve sitting on the floor by his feet. Bucky’s absolutely freezing. And why wouldn’t he be? He’d fucking fallen asleep outside in the snow. But . . . Steve had brought him inside? Steve is here?

“Steve?” he asks, voice raspy and thick with sleep. The blond glances up and crawls over to sit my Bucky’s head.

“Hey. You’re okay. You fell asleep outside. But you're okay.” Steve’s voice is soft, but there’s still hurt in those eyes. Hurt Bucky wishes he could erase and never see again.

“Steve . . . I'm so fuckin’ sorry.” Bucky closes his eyes against the shame, against the hurt in Steve’s eyes.

“I know, Buck,” Steve whispers, pushing Bucky’s hair out of his face. “I know. You were scared.” Steve tries to offer a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I was fuckin’ awful to you. There’s no excuse for that. I don’t know what came over me. Yeah I was scared, but I've been scared before without taking it out on you. I should never take it out on you. That’s not okay. That’s never okay. And I know that. And I'm so sorry. Whatever you want, ill do it.” Bucky pushes himself up and braces himself on his metal arm to face Steve. The blond is smiling softly.

“I forgive you, Buck. It’d take a lot more than a fight to make me leave.” Steve leaves his hand in Bucky’s hair. “I love you, okay? And we both did something stupid tonight.”

“Steve, you're not—”

“I said I _did_ something stupid,” Steve interrupts gently. “Not that I _am_ stupid. Neither of us are.” Bucky’s in awe of Steve right now. “I love you. And we’re okay. Just talk to me next time you're scared, yeah? It doesn’t have to come to this. We can talk about things.” Steve leans in and kisses Bucky softly. “And I'm never going to stop defending you,” the blond adds. “But I’ll try to do it in a way that doesn’t get me hurt. Deal?” Bucky lets out the breath he’d been holding and hauls Steve into his arms.

“God, I love you,” he murmurs into Steve’s hair. It’s soft and smells like strawberries. “You know that, right?” The blond burrows under the blankets next to Bucky and gets comfortable before responding. 

“Of course I know that,” he whispers, grinning. “You’re still an asshole sometimes.” Bucky laughs.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Bucky holds Steve close and turns on the TV. He lets Steve pick the channel—Supernatural reruns—and just focuses on holding his boyfriend and tightly as he can without hurting him. Steve pushes an icy foot between Bucky’s leg, hooking it around Bucky’s ankle and tugging, pulling their legs closer. Bucky’s arms are wrapped around the blond’s waist and Steve runs his fingers up and down the skin and metal. 

Bucky dozes in and out, completely exhausted not just from the fight, but from the two weeks of all-nighters, cat naps, and studying for his midterms. They’re over now and Steve is here and Bucky’s warm and comfortable and holding the man he loves.

The first time he wakes up, Steve’s turned the sound down on the TV and turned in Bucky’s arms so that they’re facing each other. Steve isn’t asleep. His fingers are carding slowly through Bucky’s hair and his face is tucked into Bucky’s shoulder where metal meets flesh. Steve’s other hand is just under the waistband of Bucky’s sweats—rubbing soothing circles onto his hip with artist’s fingers.

The second time he wakes up, Steve’s hand is working out the kinks in Bucky’s neck. Bucky doesn’t even open his eyes. He just makes a small noise of pleasure and reaches blindly for Steve’s other hand. He finds it on his ribs under his shirt and twines their fingers together, falling back into his light sleep.

The third time he wakes up, Steve is kissing his jaw softly. Bucky whines, stretching his neck back to give Steve easier access. If there’s one thing Bucky loves as much as Steve, it’s Steve kissing his neck. He groans softly and Steve chuckles. 

“You awake this time?” he asks, still kissing at Bucky’s jaw.

“Feels good, Stevie,” Bucky whispers, tightening his hold around the blond’s middle. “W’time is it?” Steve places a few more kisses down Bucky’s neck before wriggling his phone out of his pocket. The brightness of the screen temporarily blinds Bucky in the dark room and he groans, shielding his eyes. 

“Three AM,” Steve replies, tossing the phone away. Bucky hauls Steve up his body to kiss him, situating Steve so that he’s lying on top of him. They’re both already half-hard and it doesn’t take long for them to start grinding softly along with their kisses. Bucky’s letting out soft sounds of encouragement and eventually slides one hand down to grip Steve’s ass, squeezing gently. The blond yelps and drives his hips into Bucky’s harder.

“You want something, baby?” Bucky asks, grinning.

“Buck, please,” Steve whines, kissing and biting his way down Bucky’s neck to suck on his collarbone. Bucky gives a happy sigh and pulls Steve’s shirt over his head so that they’re skin to skin. Steve’s so warm that Bucky throws the blankets off, content in the warmth of the body above him. Steve lets out a little wine when Bucky pushes his hand under Steve’s jeans, circling his hole with his index finger.

“You gotta say it, Stevie,” Bucky teases. Steve groans and pushes back against Bucky’s finger.

“Please,” Steve whispers, opening his eyes and staring down at Bucky. His hair is ruffled and his eyes are bright. “Fuck me.” Bucky uses his metal hand and yanks Steve’s head down to get at his mouth, kissing him roughly. Steve moans into it and grinds down, their cocks rubbing against each other through their pants.

“God, baby. So desperate for it.” Bucky kisses Steve again, tongue lapping at the roof of Steve’s mouth. “It’s okay, I got you.” Bucky fumbles for the lube they keep stored in the couch cushions (much to Sam’s dismay when he’d found it that one time) and sets it on the floor within reach. “Sit up, baby,” he instructs. Steve does, and Bucky pops the button of his jeans. “Gotta stand up to take em off, Steve,” Bucky reminds him gently. Steve stands with a whine and pulls his jeans and briefs down, kicking them off, and pulls Bucky’s sweats and boxers off while he’s at it. The blond straddles Bucky’s hips again and Bucky wraps one hand around Steve’s dick, pumping slowly. 

“Need you,” Steve gasps, head thrown back. “Need you in me.” That’s all Bucky needs to hear and by the dim light of the TV, Bucky slicks his fingers and stretches Steve slowly. He takes his time, teasing soft moans and curses out of his boyfriend. Steve may be impatient, but he loves being fingered almost as much as he likes being fucked.

Bucky draws it out—one hand on Steve’s dick and three fingers inside of him until Steve’s crying out against Bucky’s neck, and then draws it out some more. Bucky’s own cock is painfully hard and leaking on his stomach, but this is about Steve. When Bucky finally gives Steve some sort of release by pressing up against his prostate, Steve comes hard over Bucky’s metal hand, biting down on his neck hard enough to leave a mark. Before Steve can recover, Bucky pulls his fingers out and lines Steve up, pushing in slowly. Steve’s well-stretched, but not enough that there won't be a slight burn, so Bucky moves slowly. He lets Steve catch his breath, not making him move. Bucky’s content where he is—deep inside his lover.

“Move,” Steve gasps out. “Please.” Bucky does, rocking up into Steve gently. The blond moans and bring his lips to crash against Bucky’s tongue exploring.

“You feel so good, baby,” Bucky whispers into his mouth. Steve pushes back, taking Bucky in deeper and groaning as he does it. “Fuck.” Bucky presses his head back against the pillow and cants his hips up, angling for Steve’s prostate. Steve cries out loudly and Bucky anchors his hands on the blond’s narrow hips and moves them roughly until Steve gets the message and does it himself. Bucky’s hands ghost up Steve’s sides, careful of the bruises, until they meet Steve’s chest. Bucky tweaks a nipple between his thumb and index finger and Steve moans loudly, moving faster. The combination of heat, friction, and the noises Steve’s making has Bucky right on the edge.

“Gonna come,” he gasps, hand moving down to touch himself. Bucky wraps a hand around Steve’s over his cock and moves it slowly.

“You gonna come for me again, sweetheart?” Bucky asks, hoping the answer is _yes_ because he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out. Steve just nods, squeezing his eyes closed and biting his lip. Bucky reaches up and tugs Steve’s lip out from between his teeth. “Wanna hear you, baby,” Bucky tells him. Steve opens his eyes. “Wanna hear you say my name when you come.” 

“God, Buck,” Steve gasps. Bucky moves their hands faster over Steve’s cock, eliciting low moans and high cries from Steve’s mouth.

“That’s it, baby,” Bucky soothes. “So good for me. I want you to come. Now.” And fuck, Steve does, moaning Bucky's name loudly. Bucky feels Steve clench around him, squeezing his orgasm out of him. Bucky groans, bringing Steve down so that he can kiss him through it.

When they start getting sticky, Bucky pulls Steve up and into the shower. The poor guy is all fucked out and way too tired for a long shower, so Bucky just rinses them off. He dried Steve off first and then tucks him into bed, leaving him for just a few minutes to brush his own teeth before getting under the covers beside him. Steve nuzzles into Bucky’s neck and Bucky pulls him close.

“Did you mean what you said?” Steve asks after a long time. Bucky’d thought he was asleep. “That I'm not strong enough?” Bucky’s heart breaks.

“Of course not,” Bucky whispers, voice breaking. “Of course not, Steve. I was angry and scared and I said a bunch of shit I didn’t mean. None of it was true. You’re the . . .” He breaks off, tears choking him. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. You . . . I'm so fuckin’ sorry, Steve. None of it was true, I swear. I—”

“Bucky calm down,” Steve says, pushing himself up to hover over Bucky, hand reaching to stroke Bucky’s cheek. “It’s okay. We’re okay.” 

“I just . . . what Rumlow said . . . I can't. I can't let that happen to you. I just . . . fuck.” And the tears he’d been holding back for hours rush to his eyes, trickling down his cheeks and onto the pillow. Steve wipes them away gently and kisses Bucky softly. 

“Shh, baby. We’re okay. You’re okay.” Steve kisses him again and Bucky lets himself be comforted. They’re okay. Everything’s okay. Bucky’s breathing slows and Steve strokes a hand down his side and back, soothing. “That’s it,” Steve encourages. “Deep breaths. I love you.” Steve kisses him one more time before settling down, head pillowed on Bucky’s shoulder.

“I love you, too, Steve. I love you so much.” Bucky can feel Steve smile against his skin. 

“I know, Buck. Go to sleep, okay? It’s late. We have class tomorrow.” Steve snuggles closer and Bucky groans. Class. He may skip tomorrow. God knows he and Steve both need a mental health day. Staying in bed all day sounds like a good plan.

Staying in bed with Steve all day sounds even better.

 


End file.
